Donovan's Child Read Online Free PDF Page B

hasn’t. He needs a little interaction, with someone other than Anton, or Olga. Or me.”
    â€œA fresh victim, you mean.”
    â€œNo. I mean someone smart and tough and aggressively optimistic.”
    â€œAggressively optimistic? That’s a little scary.”
    â€œI meant it in the best possible way.”
    â€œOh, right.”
    â€œI meant someone able to keep up with him—I could use someone like that around here, too, when you come right down to it. Someone like you…”
    â€œI wouldn’t say I’m exactly keeping up with him.”
    â€œWell, I would.”
    She drooped back against the couch cushions. “Okay, I’m still here. But it’s going to take a lot of chocolate, you know.”
    â€œI’ll make sure that Anton keeps it coming.” He got up. “And I’ll let you get your rest.”
    She waited until he reached the door before she said, “Good night.”
    â€œâ€™Night, Abilene.” And he was gone.
    Â 
    â€œIt’s not a horrible arrangement of the space,” Donovan announced when she entered the studio the next day. He was already at his desk, staring at his computer screens.
    She saw that her design for the center was up on the computer at the desk she’d used the day before—which meant he was probably looking at the same thing on his two ginormous screens.
    Just to be sure, she marched down the length of the room and sidled around to join him behind his desk.
    Yep. It was her design. Up on display like a sacrificial offering at a summoning of demons. Ready to be ripped to shreds by the high priest of darkness.
    He shot her an aggravated glance. “What? You do have a desk of your own, you know.”
    She sidled in closer, and then leaned in to whisper in his ear. “But yours is so much bigger, so much…more impressive.”
    He made a snarly sound. “Did I mention you annoy me?”
    â€œYes, you did. Don’t repeat yourself. It makes you seem unimaginative.” He smelled good. Clean. With a faint hint of some really nice aftershave. How could some one who smelled so good be such an ass?
    It was a question for the ages.
    â€œYou’re crowding me,” he growled.
    â€œOh, I’m so sorry….” She straightened again, and stepped back from him, but only a fraction.
    â€œNo, you’re not—and I don’t like people lurking behind me, either.”
    â€œFair enough.” She slid around so she was beside him again, put her hand on his sacrificial slab of a desk andleaned in as close as before. “I slept well, surprisingly. And I’m feeling much better this morning, thank you.”
    He turned his head slowly. Reluctantly. And met her eyes. “I didn’t ask how you slept.”
    â€œBut you should have asked.”
    â€œYeah. Well, don’t expect a lot of polite noises from me.”
    She heaved a fake sigh. “I only wish.”
    â€œIf you absolutely have to lurk at my elbow, pay attention.” He turned back to the monitors, began clicking through the views. “Have you noticed?”
    This close, she could see the hair follicles of his just-shaved beard. His skin was as golden and flawless from beside him as from several feet away. He must get outside now and then, to have such great color in his face. And his neck. And his strong, lean hands. “Noticed what?”
    â€œIt lacks a true parti. ” The parti, pronounced par-TEE , as in We are going to par-tee, was the central idea or concept for a building. In the process of creating a building design, the parti often changed many times.
    She jumped to her own defense. “It does not lack a parti. ”
    He sent her a look. “You never mentioned the parti. ”
    â€œYou didn’t ask.”
    â€œWell, all right then. What is the parti? ” He let out a dry chuckle. “Nestled rectangles?”
    Okay, his guess was way too close. She’d